Shelter

He wants to change the world

only because that is what art

does.  He wants to stand

in a high place and draw it all

into himself –

all the mass and movement

of it, the music and time

and bleeding, surging life –

and let it sit quietly in a space

within him - near his lungs -

where it can breathe in and out

with him, bearing away the hours

and the small, animal sounds

of pain; and near his heart,

where it can find a new rhythm.

Something less a locomotive

than the sea. 

And when it has rested

for the years it takes a tree

to stand and live and die,

he'll take it out and set it

softly on a table in the sun.

There are follow-up thoughts on this poem over at my blog, Metaphor. 

- Kyle

Shelter by Kyle Kimberlin is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

The Animals

The sun would never rise at all

if not for animals who conjure

morning and call it down

to warm them where they lie,

having slept the night in places

dark and cold. The blue jay

summons light to warm

the concrete bath. We owe

the cat our gratitude

for bringing rays of strong

and dusty light into the house,

especially to the shoulders

of the sofa by the window

where she sleeps.

And if not for horses, cows

and elephants the sun

would never reach the fields.

The lizard owns the light

that finds his rock

and dolphins play to bring it

on the waves. So I thank

dog for all the light I see.

Kyle Kimberlin

11.29.2009

Watermelon

Child, if you care to remember

this world, this life

you dream like a path

of certain distance quickly

walked and centered on a hill,

if you care to open it like

watermelon in summer

or like a prayer box

bearing a constellation of crosses

and sunsets, I hope

you consider your father,

his overtures to death

his music, and like sunlight

through the sprinkler

on a simple greening lawn,

his smile.


Kyle Kimberlin
2009